UC-NRLF 


*B    273    M33 

DUND  IN  A  DERELICT 

(QUEEN  OF  THE 

AND 
OTHER  POEMS 


BY 
GEORGE  HUGH  BANNING 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
IJQRLN  BARTON 


GIFT   OF 
H.^2,   ft, 


FOUND  IN  A  DERELICT; 

"QUEEN  OF  THE  NIGHT" 

AND 

OTHER  POEMS 


FOUND  IN  A  DERELICT: 

"QUEEN  OF  THE  NIGHT" 

AND 

OTHER  POEMS 

BY 

GEORGE  HUGH  BANNING 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

LOREN  ROBERTA  BARTON 


NINETEEN  NINETEEN 

THE  MURRELL  PRINTING  CO. 

LOS  ANGELES 


Copyright,  1919 

By 

GEORGE  HUGH  BANNING 
Los  ANGELES 


To 
MY  MOTHER 


415529 


FOREWORD 

learn  from  the  experiences  of  others  is  an  art  few 
can  sincerely  boast  of.  The  things  we  are  taught 
while  bouncing  over  the  rough  spots  here  and  there  are 
perhaps  the  very  things  Grandfather  could  have  told  us 
had  we  shown  a  willingness  to  listen.  Still  it  is  this  im 
petus,  this  innate  and  mute  initiative,  that  not  only  dom 
inates  but  becomes  intricate  and  pervasive  in  youth.  It 
was  not  until  late  introspection  that  I  was  impelled  to 
realize  that  the  motives  of  my  venture — the  venture  that 
frames  the  setting  of  this  book — were  not  the  motives  that 
I  had  laid  down  before  my  inquisitors.  Had  I  told  them 
the  true  reasons,  I  should  have  admitted  that  about  my 
self  which  perhaps  they  had  outgrown,  that  which  they 
could  have  no  sympathy  with,  but  that  which  constructs 
the  elemental  substance  and  soul  of  youth.  And  so  I  sub 
consciously  fashioned  an  ultramotive  and  refused  to  ad 
mit,  even  to  myself,  that  it  was  not  intrinsic.  Thus  dis 
guised,  I  passed  the  censors  and  stepped  into  a  new  world. 

I  was  a  sailor! — a  long-haired,  tar-dobbed,  hickory-clad, 
sun-blacked,  "sea-dog" !  I  was  destined  to  cross  the  ocean 
before  the  mast  of  a  "wind-jammer"  to  visit  strange  lands, 
strange  seas,  and  strange  people;  to  encounter  destructive 
winds,  fires,  and  mutiny;  in  short,  I  was  to  become  ac 
quainted  with  the  real  life  of  the  sea.  Here  I  learned 
that  the  stories  we  read  of  such  an  existence  are  not  the 
mere  pages  of  a  book,  nor  the  creative  genius  of  Stevenson, 
Conrad,  and  Masefield;  nay,  the  romance  of  the  sea  is 
immortal,  its  powers — unconquerable,  and  its  story  is  never 
told. 

In  the  following  pages  I  have  taken  much  from  the  life 
as  I  have  found  it.  "QUEEN  OF  THE  NIGHT"  was 
roughly  outlined  and  many  fragmentary  sections  were 
written  in  just  that  part  of  the  globe  the  verses  describe. 
In  fact,  the  greater  part  of  the  experiences  are  true!  Of 

[VII] 


course  such  a  tragedy  in  the  first  person  would  never  have 
left  the  author  to  write  this  foreword  since  the  entire 
poem  was  presumably  FOUND  IN  A  DERELICT; 
nevertheless  the  reader  must  not  fail  to  detect  an  allegory 
rather  than  an  impossibility. 

Although  few  of  the  subsequent  verses  pertain  to  the 
present  time,  still  it  was  conceived  that  they  may  yet  do 
their  bit,  and  it  is  thru  this  media  that  the  present  edition 
has  found  its  way  to  the  printers.  Miss  Barton  has  again 
allowed  herself  to  be  drafted,  as  she  has  done  so  many 
times  before,  in  giving  her  time  and  best  efforts  to  the  Red 
Cross  with  all  the  enthusiasm  and  purpose  of  the  men 
"over  there".  During  the  process  of  publication,  when 
we  encountered  all  the  envolutions  and  concomitant  mys 
teries  of  many  printing  presses,  she  was  not  only  the  illus 
trator  but  she  was  the  supervisor  of  the  entire  book  from 
an  artistic  standpoint  limited  as  she  was  by  the  "business 
management".  Picture  yourself  asking  a  printer  to  put  out 
a  publication  at  cost  in  these  times.  But  because  it  is 
" 'these  times"  because  the  Red  Cross  "NEEDS  THE 
MONEY,"  and  because  every  cent  paid  down  for  this 
book  is  FOR  the  Red  Cross,  The  Murrell  Printing  Co. 
has  fallen  in  line  and  has  done  just  that  thing.  Next 
to  follow  was  the  Aristo  Engraving  Company  of  Los 
Angeles,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  their  generosity  is 
appreciated.  In  hoc  signo  vincemus! 

In  conclusion  I  wish  to  thank  Mr.  Wayland  Smith,  Mr. 
Dhan  Gopal  Mukerji,  and  my  dear  mother  for  the  interest 
they  have  taken  and  the  valuable  suggestions  they  have 
offered  in  the  reconstruction  of  the  original  manuscripts. 
We  leave  the  rest — perhaps  not  the  easiest  task — to  the 
saleswomen  of  THE  RED  CROSS  SHOP. 

— GEORGE  HUGH  BANNING. 


[  VIII  ] 


CONTENTS 

FOUND  IN  A  DERELICT:  PAGE 

"QUEEN  OF  THE  NlGHT" 3 

SONGS  OF  NATURE: 

SINGING 19 

THE  FLYING  MERMAN 20 

To  JOHN  MASEFIELD 21 

OFF  THE  REEF 22 

PREMONITION 23 

A   CONTRAST 24 

SUNRISE  ON  THE  OCEAN 25 

THE  MUSE 26 

LITTLE  THINGS            27 

UKULELE 28 

BECALMED            29 

THE  DREAM  SONG 30 

THE  MARINER'S  ACCORDION 31 

SONGS  OF  LIFE: 

ECHOES 32 

SAD  WAVES 33 

"DESPAIR"            34 

SOULS  ON  THE  SEA  OF  TIME 35 

DRIFT  WOOD 36 

GONE! 37 

WINE 38 

EVERY  MAN 39 

LINES  OF  LONELINESS  40 


[IX] 


CONTENTS—  ( Continued ) 

PILOT  OF  THE  NIGHT  WATCH 41 

THE  BLIND  BEGGAR 42 

SONGS  OF  LOVE: 

TANK  A  TO  44 

You 45 

WOODLAND   STARS       .        .       ,        .  .        .        .  46 

A  PROMISE  . 47 

SUN-FLOWER .        .        .  48 

THE  LOST  SONG 49 

FORGET-ME-NOT .  50 

THE  PATHFINDER        .  >» 51 

SONGS  OF  THE  WAR: 

MOTHERS 52 

REDEMPTION 53 

To  WALT  WHITMAN 54 

CARRY  ON 55 

A  SOLDIER'S  WILL  TO  ONE  UNBORN  ....  56 

DRY  DOCKED 57 

THE  LEGACY  OF  DEATH      .        .  58 


[X] 


Love  is  not  the  maiden, 

But  the  heart  that  finds  her  fair: 
f>or  happiness  the  harbor, 

Out  the  ivind  that  bloivs  us  there. 


FOUND  IN  A  DERELICT: 

"QUEEN  OF  THE  NIGHT" 


FOUND  IN  A  DERELICT: 
"QUEEN  OF  THE  NIGHT" 

"  'And  this  old  schooner  bears  that  hoodoo  name!' 

The  old  sailmaker  paused.     'It  seems  a  shame!' 

Said  he,  measuring  off  a  stitch,  'Here's  number  two!' 

He  was  sewing  a  seaman's  coffin,  'But  it's  true 

The  name,  'Queen  o'  the  Night,'  belongs  to  a  plant — 

Why  they  named  this  old  hulk  that  I  can't 

Quite  understand.    A  pretty  name,  no  doubt ; 

And  a  pretty  flower  too — hey  there,  lookout! 

You're  steppin'  on  it, — see! — no  matter  how 

Black  and  smutted  up  he  was,  somehow 

We  want  the  clothes  he'll  sleep  in  sort  o'  clean 

To  hide  'im  like.     But  as  I  was  sayin',  I  seen 

That  flower  grow  on  islands  not  so  far 

From  where  we  waller  now.     'The  Southern  Star,' 

She  called  there  once.     How  fond  they  was  of  me — 

Them  native  girls :  there's  one  especially ! — 

Well  sir,  'twas  a  happy,  happy  hour ! — 

I  sort  o'  see  her  there.     She  picked  a  flower 

And  told  me  how  it  faded  in  the  light 

Of  early  morning,  so,  'Queen  o'  the  Night' 

She  calls  it,  or  in  French  (they  spoke  it  there 

Sometimes),  'La  Reine  de  la  Nuit,'  so  that  is  where 

This  helpless,  hell-bound  jammer  gets  the  name. 


[3] 


May  be  all  right  enough,  but  all  the  same 

That  name  and  this  here  sleepin'-bag  remind  me 

Of  all  the  hell  I  thought  I'd  left  behind  me. 

And  here  we  are,  half  calmed,  the  old  hulk  drinkin' 

Enough  salt  water — well — I  call  it  sinkin  ! 

Damn  this  needle ! — rusted! — yep,  I'll  say 

All  the  bloody  gears  'as  seen  their  day!' 

"He  paused  and  went  to  humming  some  quaint  lay. 

I  left  him  there.     Slowly  turning  away 

Half  dreamingly,  I  sought  the  jolly-boat 

To  be  alone ;  then,  half  asleep,  I  wrote, 

Or  emptied  from  my  soul  each  mystic  thought 

That  the  old  sailmaker's  babblings  had  brought." 

"  'THE  SCHOONER'  " 

'  'At  Capricorn  near  Tuomotus  seas, 
Where  all  the  world  is  summer  and  the  breeze 
Blows  warm  with  salty  fragrance;  where  the  sun 
Sets  glossy  clouds  to  steaming  as  they  run 
And  disappear  like  sylphs  into  the  sky; 
Where  two-arched  rainbows  live,  and  love,  and  die; 
Where  cannonading  meteors,  at  night, 
Like  star-shells,  flood  the  glossy  world  with  light 
While  tumbling  shadows  stagger  o'er  the  brine 
In  drunk  stupidity.     Where  sparkling  wine 
From  phosphorescent  waves  keeps  glowing — blinking — 
Till  man  nor  ghost  of  man  can  hold  from  drinking 
Wine  the  cloud-men  feed  their  flocks  of  sheep  on, 
Wine  that  ship  and  crew  fall  fast  asleep  on: 
Here  a  spell-bound  schooner  slept  and  snored 
With  four-and-twenty  seamen  there  aboard. 


[4] 


She  waved  her  chafing  sails  about  each  mast 

As  one  by  one  the  oily  grounders  passed; 

She  swayed,  and  in  her  dreams  she  moaned  a  song, 

Or  jerked  her  booms  impatiently,  'How  long!' 

She  cried,  for  all  her  blocks  and  shackles, 

Brales,  braces,  halliards,  sheets,  down-hauls  and  tackles, — 

All  were  worn.     God,  what  monotony 

Of  weeks  and  weeks  and  weeks!     The  agony 

Of  days  that,  like  the  world,  went  round  and  round 

Seemed  dull  and  endless.    All  the  world  was  bound 

In  beauty  unobtainable.     But  she 

Kept  drinking,  drinking,  drinking,  hopefully 

That  wonders  of  the  world  would  be  her  lot — 

BUT  SHE  WAS  SINKING,  AND  SHE  KNEW  IT  NOT!'  " 

"Thus  the  verses  ended.    Innocent 

Was  I  of  words  or  what  the  phrases  meant ; 

The  occult  warning  faded  with  the  light, 

And  dreams  of  magic  islands,  through  the  night, 

Bore  me  to  the  Vex'd  Bermoothes'  where  dwells 

The  dwarfish  Caliban ;  then  brassy  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells! — that  sickening  clang 

Was  drowning  everything;  they  rang,  and  rang! 

Something — wrong!    Indeed  I  waked  to  know 

That  those  upon  the  'Dog'  had  turned  below ; 

My  watch  turned  to.     Half  numbed  with  stiffened  neck 

I  blundered  from  the  jolly-boat  to  deck." 


[5] 


II 

"Two  months — two  long  and  weary  months  at  sea 

We  grumbled  through  our  toils.     Impatiently 

We  dreamed  of  all  but  that  which  spread  its  charms 

Broadcast  about  us.    Nay,  our  aching  arms 

Reached  for  that  which  we,  two  months  ago, 

Had  cursed  and  left.    But  now  we  suffered.     Oh, 

What  folly!     What  childishness!     What  involution 

The  hungry  wanderlust — that  mad  solution 

Of  Finding — leads  us  to!     What  were  we  seeking? 

Why  were  we  here  upon  this  rolling,  leaking 

Schooner?    Lo,  the  fuse  of  mutiny 

Was  burning  through  the  focsle,  while  silently, 

Watch  and  watch,  the  pump  shifts  toiled  away, 

Watch  and  watch  she  leaked  until  one  day 

The  tired  crew  rebelled:  they'd  pump  no  more! 

Triumphant  in  revolt  we  turned  for  shore. 

"A  day,  another  day,  till,  through  the  clouds 

Clustering  like  dark  and  dingy  shrouds 

About  the  shade  of  some  long  sought  oasis,  we 

Beheld  an  island  dim.     In  ecstacy 

The  wave-worn  hearts  leaped  up,  the  tiding  spread. 

Then,  like  a  sudden  shock  to  wake  the  dead, 

The  great  ship  trembled,  listed  hard  a-lea, 

A  fresh  breeze  off  the  quarter  waked  the  sea, 

The  tiny  white  caps,  through  the  glassy  waves, 

Like  ghosts  of  Hallowe'en  came  from  their  graves. 

Along  the  salt-white  rails  with  straining  eyes, 

Our  gaze  anticipating  Paradise, 

We  stood,  all  silenced  lest  our  voices  break 

The  wondrous  spell.    We  feared  that  we  should  wake. 


[6] 


We  beheld  an  island  dim. 


"How  oft'  have  such  anticipations  led 

Where  nude  Reality  entombs  her  dead ; 

How  oft'  have  drunken  dreams  been  torn  away 

To  crypts  where  ghouls  of  fact  consume  their  prey. 

But  thou,  Anticipation,  make  us  brave ; 

And  Humor,  lead  us  smiling  to  the  grave. 

"This  in  one  fleet  trice  imbued  my  mind 

To  see  those  anxious  faces  in  the  wind 

With  tousled  locks  and  beards  men  grow  at  sea 

Only  to  postpone  the  monotony 

Of  seeing  each  same  face  without  a  change 

Day  after  day.    Oh  God!  for  something  strange! 

Something  dreamed  about  but  never  seen! 

Thus  every  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  sheen 

Of  fire  clouds  that  hung  above  the  crown 

Of  one  small  isle — perhaps  a  little  town — 

Where  waving,  dreamy  palm-trees  grew  and  made 

A  place  of  rest,  pouring  down  their  shade 

To  thirsting  souls.     Scarce  God  could  understand 

Two  months  at  sea, — then  land!    Oh  peaceful  land ! 

"Land!  and  such  as  this ! — Oh  magic  isle, 

Be  thou  as  we  see  thee  'neath  a  file 

Of  gold-rimmed  clouds,  and  thou  thyself  a  part: 

A  sky-grown  dream ;  a  heart  within  a  heart. 

On  sang  my  soul,  and,  ere  the  song  was  done, 

The  cloud  men,  through  their  fire  looms,  had  spun 

A  blue  and  crimson  tapestry  bedight 

With  clustered  stars  descending  with  the  night. 


[7] 


"And  there  the  Book  was  read — the  only  part 

That  through  those  long,  dark  months  we'd  learned  by 

heart. 

The  old  sail-maker  bowed  his  head  in  prayer ; 
He  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  to  care; 
To  have  his  careful  work  thrown  overboard 
Was  worth  a  thought,  and  so  he  thanked  the  Lord 
That  the  mate  was  gone  and  never  coming  back, 
Carefully  tucked  and  sewed  within  the  sack 
That  his  own  hands  had  made.    But  all  the  rest 
Were  thinking  of  the  island  for  the  blest: 
To-morrow's  port.    We  were  the  chosen  few 
To  walk  in  Paradise.    What  cared  our  crew 
For  one  thus  damned  ? — With  these  our  prayers  expended, 
The  plank  was  tilted  up.     A  long  day  ended." 

Ill 

"Early  dawn.    A  lonely  lookout — I, 

Listening  to  the  bubbles  splashing  by, 

The  restless  sheet-blocks  jerking  at  their  bales, 

The  lazy  down-hauls  slapping  at  their  sails, 

The  clatter,  clatter  'neath  the  focsle-head 

Of  fire  buckets  idle  in  their  bed, 

Listening  to  the  breeze  against  the  leech 

Of  trembling  jibs,  or  wondering  at  the  reach 

Of  two  spread  arms  above  the  other  spars 

Embracing  one  vast  universe  of  stars, 

Or  watching  gold-green  phosphorous  mites  that  play 

Along  the  water  line  to  fade  away 

And  die  in  whirring  masses  as  they  break 

The  liquid  fire  film  along  the  wake. 


[8] 


"But  lo!  from  purple  springs  a  tinted  gray! 
One  by  one  the  star-lamps  burn  away; 
One  by  one  the  clouds,  like  ghosts  reborn, 
Blush  at  their  own  splendor  till  the  morn 
Has  made  the  world  an  opal  set  in  gold. 
Lo !  the  vapor  curtains  rise ! — Behold! 
A  dream  incarnate !     God!  before  my  eyes, 
The  isle,  the  sea,  the  world  is  Paradise! 

"As  times  of  plenty  presage  future  dearth, 
Dream  bubbles  burst  and  tumble  back  to  earth : 
There  at  anchor  'neath  the  white-hot  sun 
Boxes,  drums,  and  barrels ;  one  by  one 
We  hauled  aboard.     How  like  small  children — we, 
On  Christmas-eve  when  blind  anxiety 
Anticipates  tomorrow's  ample  store; 
Thus  all  our  hearts  had  drifted  to  the  shore 
Where,  through  the  trees,  along  the  cool  highway, 
Shadow  children  joined  in  shadow  play; 
Shadow  men — dark  men — with  naked  feet, 
Tripped  noiselessly  along  the  shadow  street; 
Red,  yellow,  blue  and  purple,  here  and  there, 
Like  drunken  Autumn  leaves  without  a  care, — 
This  way  and  that.     What  difference  to  a  band 
Of  happy  shadow-folk  in  Shadowland? 

"But  still  in  passive  greed  we  drudged  away 
Until  the  bell  was  sounded  and  the  day 
Was  carefully  cashed  within  the  money  drawer, 
While  we,  with  empty  pockets,  pulled  ashore. 


[9] 


Empty  pockets?     Nay, — deeper  curses: 

Our  hearts  were  empty — empty  as  our  purses. 

Fools! — blind  fools! — We  grumbled  as  we  walked, 

Cursing,  vowing  vengeance,  as  we  talked. 

The  breeze  had  turned  its  song  to  mockery, 

The  dusk  was  pouring  money  in  the  sea ! 

The  shadow  children  fled,  the  beauties  all 

Crumbled  with  the  Shadow-city  wall. 

Yet  there  we  were  'midst  all  the  things  we'd  sought : 

We  walked  in  Paradise,  and  knew  it  not." 

IV 

"The  crowd  dispersed.    Alone,  forlorn,  I  went 
Along  the  shabby  pathway.     Discontent 
Walled  in  my  soul  with  purpose  to  preclude 
That  art  of  panning  gold  from  solitude. 
But  lo !  before  the  mural  blind  was  made 
There  came  a  voice!  a  song!     My  soul  obeyed! 
Half  dead,  it  stirred.     It  rose.     It  cried  aloud! 
In  modulation  shook  the  mountain  cloud! 
The  echoes  crashed.     They  thundered  'twixt  the  stars. 
The  moon  dropped  out,  then  Jupiter  and  Mars ! 
My  breath  was  gone,  and  ere  my  wits  returned, 
Darkness  in  celestial  pyres  burned. 

"Upon  the  moon-paved  waters  of  the  bay, 

Hours,  years,  nay  ages,  sailed  away. 

Behold  the  dancing  shadows  'round  the  trees! 

What  happy  dryads  own  more  grace  than  these? 

I  watched  until  beside  me  smiling  there 

Stood  a  maid  with  flowers  in  her  hair, — 

White  flowers — white  like  lilies — with  such  grace 


[10] 


They  seemed  to  drink  sweet  nectar  from  her  face 
And  shine  with  sparkling  dew  the  silvered  skies 
Had  drunk  when  drinking  tear-drops  from  her  eyes. 
Beneath  the  pillared  foliage,  half  entranced, 
We  rested  while  the  other  shadows  danced. 
She  spoke.    I  spoke — or  whispered  lest  I  wake 
The  emerald  dream  that  drifted  from  the  lake. 
She  closed  her  eyes ;  perhaps  the  dazzling  light 
From  her  own  soul  had  closed  them.    Ah,  how  bright 
Even  to  me  that  midnight  darkness  seemed ! 
Perhaps  7  closed  my  eyes !     Perhaps  I  dreamed ! 

"For,  as  I  gazed  upon  that  form  so  rare, 

She  moved,  she  picked  a  flower  from  her  hair! 

'Take  this,'  she  said,  'this  blossom,  pure  and  white — 

'La  Reine  de  la  Nuit'  pour  vous,  'Queen  of  the  Night' ! 

It  is  my  soul  blossoming  when  the  mist 

Of  night  has  fallen  down  on  earth  and  kist 

The  folded  petals.    Lo !  as  if  from  dreams, 

It  moves,  it  turns  its  head,  it  seems 

To  wake,  to  see,  to  drink  the  harmony 

That  echoes  from  the  lyres  of  sky  and  sea ; 

It  catches  every  trembling  light  that  cleaves 

Its  blinky  pathway  through  the  waving  leaves; 

It  sings  of  starland;  bathes  in  fragrant  bliss — 

Take  it — my  flower, — here  is  Happiness.' 

"I  seized  the  trembling  plant.    My  passions  grew. 

I  bore  it  to  my  breast  as  if  I  knew 

Its  life  was  mine ;  as  if  I  could  devour 

That  beauty  from  the  soul  that  made  the  flower. 


[in 


I  clutched  it !  kissed  it !  called  its  name  aloud ! 
Oh  God,  it  seemed  its  petals  were  endowed 
With  all  my  senses,  yet  some  sense  divine — 
I  knew  not  what — but  swore  it  should  be  mine! 

"I  gazed  upon  the  maiden  lying  there. 

I  gazed  upon  the  flower  to  compare: 

They  looked  the  same ;  ah  me,  I  hardly  knew 

Which  blossom  was  the  brighter  of  the  two. 

As  the  water  images  the  bower, 

Her  being  was  inscribed  upon  the  flower. 

It  was  her  soul,  so  bright — so  bright  that  she 

Was  All,  Perfect,  Pure  as  soul  could  be. 

"But  envy  comes  to  conquer,  envy  burns 

What  little  virtue  man's  poor  being  earns. 

I  clutched  her,  kissed  her, — God  could  not  have  stayed  me ! 

She,  like  the  flower,  trembled  and  obeyed  me. 

I  drank  the  wine  that  she  alone  could  offer! 

I  crammed  her  love  like  gold  into  my  coffer! 

I  gouged  the  moon  and  stars  from  out  their  sockets 

And  crumpled  clouds  to  fit  my  empty  pockets. 

The  world — the  universe — was  in  my  power! 

Drunk  with  delight  I  gripped  the  glowing  flower 

And  with  it  staggered  to  the  open  sea : 

A  conqueror  with  spoils  of  victory." 

V 

"Early  dawn.    A  lonely  lookout — I, 
Listening  to  the  bubbles  splashing  by, 
The  restless  sheet-blocks  jerking  at  their  bales, 
The  lazy  down-hauls  slapping  at  their  sails. 


[12] 


There  behind  me  fades  the  coral  bay, 

The  jagged  mountains  slowly  blur  away; 

The  dark  mist  falls,  and  now  the  black  clouds  take 

The  liquid  turquoise  from  our  bubbling  wake. 

'Come  back!'  I  cried,  'Come  back!' — there  came  a  dull 

And  mocking  laughter  from  a  passing  gull. 

'Come  back!     Come  back!'  again,  again  I  cried! — 

Thus  with  a  'hiss'  the  sea  and  sails  replied. 

I  stretched  my  aching  fingers  in  despair. 

I  reached,  I  grasped — I  grasped  the  vapid  air! 

Half  mad  I  fell.      (Still  dimmer  lay  the  strand.) 

God !    What  is  this  ?    The  flower  in  my  hand ! 

Wilted,  drooping,  tarnished  and  forlorn, 

With  bleeding  stem  and  streaked  petals  torn, 

It  lay,  a  helpless  victim  of  my  hand, 

Dying  like  the  hills  of  Shadow-land; 

Dying  like  my  soul,  oh  flower  white, 

Farewell  forever !    Love,  'Queen  of  the  Night' ! 

"Eight  bells !    The  watch  was  done.    Each  seaman  slunk 

From  wheel,  deck  watch,  or  locker  to  his  bunk. 

The  Starboard  men,  half  dazed  from  sleep,  like  ghosts, 

Relieved  the  wheel  and  rilled  their  sailing  posts. 

'Turn  in!'  the  lookout  said,  'Eight  bells! — I  swear 

You  look  most  like  the  Devil  standin'  there — 

A-standin'  there  before  the  Starboard  light 

All  green  and  pale-like  .  .  .  Lordy,  what  a  night !' 

I  turned  away  but  stood  behind  the  mast 

And  leaned  against  the  pin-rail.     All  aghast 

I  watched  the  silhouettes  in  shabby  rout 

Move  here  and  there.    I  heard  the  'Second'  shout 


[13] 


'Hey,  lend  a  hand ! — you  there ! — to  brace  the  yard. 

Once  more !    And  again !    Make  fast !  don't  loose  'er  pard. 

All  right:  the  sheet! — good! — Together  sing! 

Wait!  get  'Handy  Bill'! — there — the  ring! 

Yo-hee,  oh-ho\     Well  done!    Take  up  that  slack! 

Lean  on  it!  break  it!  once  more!  bring  'er  back! 

Haul  taught !  Make  fast !  Now  Spanker-sheet,  and  Main : 

She's  haulin'  off  the  quarter  now  again. 

You,  Scottie,  lay  aloft  and  clear  that  brale, 

She's  foul  near  the  goose-neck.     See  the  sail? 

You'd  think  a  crew  of  farmers  put  to  sea — 

God  damn  this  breeze !    Get  aft,  Andrew,  f er  me ! 

Tell  him  t'  haul  'er  east-nor'-east  about. 

Oh  Gus!  up  there.    I  say!  keep  a  sharp  lookout!' 

'For  lights  or  rocks  ?'  replied  the  focsle-head. 

'For  everything — and  reefs!'  the  'Second'  said. 

'Makin'  leaway!  wind  abaft  the  beam! 

I've  never  seen  the  likes — I'd  never  dream 

A  bloody  man  could  have  the  crust  t'  build 

A  log  so  helpless.    Now,  with  oil  tanks  filled, 

And  gas-pumps  suckin'  bilge  t'  God,  and  store 

And  water-tanks  all  full — Good  Lord !  what  more 

Would  any  proper  sailin'  vessel  need  ? 

But  here  we  are  t'  sea  again.     Indeed 

As  helpless  as  before !    Just  see  that  wake ! 

Four  points  t'  windward !   Lord,  I  bet  we  make 

The  rocky  coast  of  Hell  before  we  see 

Old  Diamond  Head  again.  .  .  .  Take  it  from  me!' 

"And  so  they  talked  and  grumbled,  spat  and  swore ; 
It  seemed  that  all  our  efforts  to  restore 


[14] 


'Hey,  lend  a  hand ! — you  there ! — to  brace  the  yard.' 


The  voyage  to  hopefulness  were  drowned  in  gloom ; 

For  what  is  man  beneath  the  hand  of  Doom  ? 

What  is  mortal  will  when  Destiny 

Controls  the  winds  and  currents  of  the  sea? 

And  so  I  stood  imprisoned  in  my  own 

Dark  cell  of  circumstance ; — I,  alone, 

Unfixed  for  sleep  or  toil,  unable,  too, 

To  listen  to  the  chanties  of  the  crew, 

Felt  the  helpless,  heated  coals  of  yearning 

Deep  in  unfrequented  soul-pits  burning. 

Regret  is  Wisdom,  but  alas,  how  late 

Such  knowledge  comes  to  tangle  with  our  fate ! 

Man  thinks  and  acts  only  as  he  wills; 

But,  like  the  river  winding  through  the  hills, 

There's  but  one  way  to  go :  the  way  it  went, 

Though  like  some  mountain  torrent  purpose  bent 

To  wash  away  time-planted  rocks  and  flow 

To  realms  where  none  but  it  had  dared  to  go, 

It's  all  the  same ;  even  as  the  day 

Must  presage  night,  there  is  no  other  way. 

All  is  like  a  map  to  Destiny ; 

All  that     ever  has  been  had  to  be; 

All  that  is  can  be  no  other  way; 

Circumstance  commands !    We  must  obey 

Although  we  follow  through  the  depths  of  scum 

And  eat  the  dregs  that  worms  are  breeded  from, 

Or  though,  like  earthly  Gods,  we  fill  the  age 

And  feel  the  joy  of  Christ's  own  heritage, 

It's  one  with  Destiny,  whose  mate  is  Cause ; 

They  paint  life's  masterpiece  and  shape  the  laws. 


[15] 


Yet  there  is  that  in  man,  deep  and  rebelling, 
That  cries  aloud,  sans  reason,  but  compelling 
Him  to  think,  though  God  must  shape  the  whole 
He  himself  is  master  of  his  soul. 

"Then  off  I  went  again  to  the  jolly-boat 

With  purpose  to  forget,  and  glibly  wrote 

Whatever  seeped  from  out  the  overflow 

That  swelled  some  vault  within.     How  could  I  know 

The  meaning  of  those  hurried  words — not  them — 

But  what  relief  to  watch  my  trickling  pen." 

"  'THE  FLOWER'  " 

'  'In  Papeete,  Tahiti's  sunny  shore, 

Where  men  and  women  wear,  well,  little  more 

Than  nature  has  provided.     Where  one  sees 

Mangos  and  bananas  grow  on  trees, 

And  cocoa-palms,  like  forests,  even  to 

The  emerald  ocean  side.     Where  all  the  blue 

Beyond  the  coral  reef  reflects  the  glow 

Of  the  giant  moon.     Where  ocean  breezes  blow 

From  the  Island  of  Moorea  dreamingly, 

Upon  a  mossy  stream-bank,  lonesomely 

Beside  the  little  cocoa-jungle,  there 

Sat  a  sun-browned  maid,  and  in  her  hair 

White  flowers  were  entwined.    How  they  resembled 

The  purity  of  moonbeams  as  they  trembled 

Glowingly  upon  her  face  and  breast 

And  on  the  maiden  ferns  that  lined  her  nest. 

'She  sighed,  and  from  the  wreath  upon  her  head 
She  plucked  a  flower.    'To  be  like  theef  she  said. 
'Just  to  be  like  thee,  oh  magic  flower, 
To  love  and  be  loved  for  this  one  dark  hour, 
When  at  dawn  the  great  sun  climbs  the  sky 


[16] 


'Here's  number  three? 


Gladly  would  I  fade  with  thee,  and  die!' 

As  she  spoke  the  great  moons  silver  beams 

Weighed  heavily,  and  from  a  sea  of  dreams 

Her  lover  came  in  raptures  to  her  charms, 

For  she  was  beautiful.     There  in  his  arms 

She  drank  the  wine  that  he  alone  could  offer. 

She  crammed  his  love  like  gold  into  her  coffer, 

She  gouged  the  moon  and  stars  from  out  their  sockets, 

And  crumpled  clouds  to  fit  her  empty  pockets. 

The  world — the  universe — was  in  her  power, 

Drunk  with  delight  she  watched  the  fading  flower, 

For  now  the  sun  was  rising  white  and  hot.  .  .  . 

SHE  WAS  DYING  AND  SHE  KNEW  IT  NOT.'  " 

"Thus  the  verse  concluded ;  then  it  seems 

I  drifted  off — far  off — to  sleep  and  dreams; 

I  saw  the  old  sailmaker  busily 

Sewing  on  a  bag.     'Here's  number  three!' 

He  said,  and  eyed  me  as  he  drew 

The  needle  out  again  and  palmed  it  through. 

He  measured  me  once  more  from  heel  to  head — 

'I  guess  it's  plenty  long  enough !'  he  said.  .  .  . 

But  now  the  great  ship  shivered,  twitched,  and  twisted! 

A  rumble  from  the  cargo  hatch !  she  listed ! 

Timbers  cracked  and  crashed !     I  heard  a  roar 

Like  breakers  thundering  upon  the  shore. 

White  foam  swept  the  decks !    The  cries  of  men, 

Like  waves  of  life  on  cliffs  of  doom,  again 

And  again  were  mocked  by  echoes.     I 

Was  conscious  of  my  dreaming,  but  to  try 

To  force  my  mind  to  wakefulness  would  be 

To  find  another  dream  more  true ;  to  see 

The  wretched  sailors  grovelling  in  waves 


[17] 


That  were  to  swallow  them  and  seal  their  graves. 
So  on  I  slept — how  long?     I  never  knew 
Till  tides  of  horror  ebbed  and  bore  me  to 
A  haunted  stillness — stillness  so  like  death 
The  beating  of  my  heart,  my  surging  breath 
Awoke  me!  .  .  . 

"Oh,  thou,  if  ever  there  should  be 
Some  one  to  find  what's  left  of  mine  and  me, 
Ask  me  not  how  came  this  bitter  end 
Nor  these  few  inky  splutterings  I've  penned; 
/  am  the  end !    I,  exiled,  outcast 
From  life  and  death.    Even  to  the  last 
Behold  me  now !    The  luckless  ship  is  gone ; 
God  knows  when  or  where,  perhaps  the  dawn 
Shall  find  her  wreck  on  some  unchartered  shoal — • 
'Queen  of  the  Night'  tattered  as  the  soul 
That's  wasting  here  adrift  in  the  jolly-boat! 
Adrift !  and  all  alone !     My  burning  throat 
Is  caked  with  salt,  my  lips,  my  tongue  shall  burst 
Even  as  my  heart !    This  gnawing  thirst, 
This  Hell  of  hunger,  world  of  appetite, 
Has  found  a  willing  victim,  reaped  delight 
In  devastation,  joy  in  ruthless  plunder, 
Torn  me  down  to  darkness,  dragged  me  under! 
Oh  let  these  lines,  however  crude  they  be, 
If  found,  be  all  the  world  has  left  of  me ; 
For  lo !  the  sea  grows  pale ;  its  hungry  eyes 
Are  red  with  blood  reflection.     All  the  skies 
Have  horded  up  life's  treasures  as  their  own 
And  left  me  dying — dying  and  alone. 
Oh  dawn  of  day,  thou  art  the  soul's  twilight ; 
Life — the  flower  of  dreams — Queen  of  the  Night." 

[FINIS] 


[18] 


Oh  dawn  of  day,  thou  art  the  soul's  twilight; 
Life — the  flower  of  dreams — Queen  of  the  Night. 


Life,  thou  art  only  the  shadow 
Of  a  Star  ivhosc  silver  ray 
Shines  on  screens  of  Destiny 
endless  shadoiy  play. 


SINGING 

The  sea  turns  the  pages  of  darkness 

For  the  jewels  of  her  temple  to  see ; 
The  winds  put  the  stanzas  to  music, 

And  my  soul  sings  the  music  to  me. 
O  God,  could  I  sing  as  my  soul  does, 

I'd  sing  to  the  world-wide  throng, 
And  the  world,  as  the  wind,  would  be  singing 

With  me  to  the  soul  of  my  song. 


[19] 


THE  FLYING  MERMAN 

When  the  crystal  sea,  in  the  dead  of  night, 

Is  awed  by  the  tranquil  sky, 
And  the  world  is  wrapped  in  a  purple  light 

As  the  moon  and  the  stars  sail  by, 
I  swim  from  the  depth  of  a  silent  dream 

In  search  of  the  distant  light ; 
Like  a  streak  of  gold  I  glide  on  the  beam 

That  paves  the  path  of  night. 
Then  I  fall  and  am  lost  in  the  blue  chiffon 

All  spangled  in  gold  and  white ; 
Again  and  again  I  appear,  but  am  gone 

Like  the  flash  from  a  beacon  light. 
Then  I  fly  to  the  lure  of  the  sapphire  dome 

To  frighten  the  moon  and  Mars, 
Then  fall  to  scatter  the  spangled  foam 

That  shines  like  a  million  stars. 
Like  a  will-o'-the-wisp  or  a  lightning  dart, 

Like  a  goblin  or  silver  sprite, 
Or  the  arrow  that  pierces  a  lonely  heart 

Adrift  on  the  waves  at  night ; 
I  know  the  world,  yet  none  know  me, 

As  silently  I  roam 
From  the  stars  of  the  sky  to  the  purple  sea 

Where  I  vanish  in  snow-white  foam. 


[20] 


TO  JOHN  MASEFIELD 

(After  reading  "DAUBER") 

You  came  as  an  ocean  billow, 

And  burst  on  the  sands  of  time 
Till  the  crust  of  its  surface  rippled 

To  the  pulse  of  an  ocean  rhyme: 
The  rhyme  of  the  wind  and  the  water, 

The  rhyme  of  each  tiny  star 
That  follows  the  wake  of  a  vessel 

And  silvers  the  frost  on  the  spar. 
Hear  the  creak  of  the  blocks,  and  the  humming 

Of  wind  on  a  trembling  shroud, 
Like  the  ghost  of  a  tempest  drumming 

On  the  soul  of  a  vanishing  cloud. 
Hear  the  song  of  a  man  that  lived  it, 

And  knew  what  it  was  to  sail 
Through  life  with  the  sheet  strands  cracking 

'Fore  the  breath  of  the  Master  Gale. 
It  was  never  the  dream  of  summer 

When  the  wind  and  sails  agree, 
But  the  battle  with  Fate  when  thunder 

Wakens  the  rage  of  the  sea. 
But  you've  painted  your  God  as  you  found  him 

When  the  soul  of  your  song  began, 
And  you've  taken  the  beauty  that  crowned  him 

To  color  the  hearts  of  man. 


[21] 


OFF  THE  REEF 


Have  you  ever  heard  the  splash,  splash,  splashing  as  I  go, 
And  the  foaming,  combing  ruffle  on  my  pearly,  curly 

crest  ? 
Have  you  heard  the  swish  and  splashing  on  the   rocks 

where  I  am  dashing 
As  I  roll  from  out  the  rainbow  arch  of  triumph  in  the 


west: 


I  greet  the  merry  babble  of  the  rushing  rivers'  rabble 
As  they  turn  their  troubled  torrents  to  the  forces  of  my 

foam, 

Then  athwart  the  sea  I  dash  to  the  music  of  my  splash, 
And  I'm  laughing  at  the  lightning  darts  that  cross  the 
stellar  dome. 

I'm  the  god  of  force  and  motion ;  I'm  the  monarch  of  the 

ocean ! 

The  ever-changing,  ever-moving  mass  of  water,  I. 
Though  I   splash,   and   roll,   and   change,   to  myself   I'm 

never  strange, 

For  the  blue  that  Heaven  gave  me  is  the  light  that 
cannot  die. 


[22] 


PREMONITION 

From  cro'jicks  to  the  skysail-yards 

There  comes  a  restless  groan; 
The  sheet-blocks,  swinging  to  and  fro, 

Complain  with  fretful  moan ; 
The  port  and  starboard  running-lights, 

From  out  the  mist,  half  lost, 
Are  blinking — frozen  half  asleep — 

Thru  green  and  crimson  frost. 

Beside  a  bit  I  take  the  caulk 

Before  the  blinking  red  ; 
But  thru  the  lashes  of  my  eyes — 

There  on  the  topsail-head — 
Above  the  kites — the  futtock  shrouds 

Where  sky-top  yard-arms  cross, 
I  see  a  white,  a  something  white ! — 

It  is  an  albatross! 

I  listen,  lo,  it  speaks  to  me! 

The  words  are  faint  and  far: 
"The  salty  soul  of  a  seaman,  I ; 

The  tragic  tale  of  a  tar. 
You  sleep  tonight  where  I  once  slept 

On  the  deck  of  a  luckless  whaler, 
Sleep  well  my  lad,  for  soon  you'll  be 

The  salty  soul  of  a  sailor." 


[23] 


A  CONTRAST 

While  the  waves  were  sighing 

A  voice  came  from  afar 
Like  spirit-echoes  flying 

From  a  sunken  star. 
Inky  seas  around  me 

Shattered  at  the  prow  ; 
A  twinkling  pageant  found  me 

Where  dreams  would  find  me  now. 

But  now  the  sea's  in  laughter, 

The  wind  enjoins  with  cheers, 
And  my  soul  drifts  after 

In  the  sea's  forgotten  tears. 
The  echoes  change  to  thunder 

And  die  upon  the  shoal ; 
The  stars  flare  out  from  under 

The  crypt  that  binds  my  soul. 


[24  J 


SUNRISE  ON  THE  OCEAN 

Rays,  like  colored  ribbons  streaming 

From  the  castle  walls  of  night, 
Awaken  emerald-bubbled,  dreaming 

Waves  to  golden  rifts  of  light. 
Billows  catch  the  rainbow  shaded 

Fairies  at  their  May-pole  play 
To  weave  the  web  of  cloud-yarn  braided 

Thru  the  golden  loom  of  Day. 


25] 


THE  MUSE 

(A  Tribute  to  a  Contemporary  Poet) 

She  flies  as  an  opal  dream  to  thee 

Over  a  topaz  sea 

That  chimes  with  the  bells  of  planets  and  the  moon. 
She  drifts  as  the  silken  harmony 

That  rings  in  a  dream 
And  carries  the  voice  of  stars  in  silver  tune. 

She  flies  as  a  snowy  albatross 

From  the  mist  across 
The  vision  of  an  exiled,  lonely  soul, 

And  wakes  the  voice  for  waves  to  toss 

Carelessly 
Until  they  beat  with  thunder  on  the  shoal. 


[26] 


LITTLE  THINGS 

Can  you  think  of  a  time  when  memory's  wings 
Shall  drift  to  a  world  of  little  things 

On  years  that  follow  away? 
Can  you  think  of  a  smirk,  or  a  frown,  and  yet 
Smile  at  it  all,  and  almost  forget 

That  years  have  borne  you  away? 
Can  you  think  of  a  time  when  the  hours  pass 
Thru  the  amber  light  of  an  upturned  glass? — 
Can  you  ever  forget  those  hours  when 
You  are  only  a  man  in  a  world  of  men, 

And  years  are  rolling  away? — 
Think  if  you  can  of  the  smallest  thing: 

A  tree,  a  beast,  or  a  man ; 
Think,  if  you  will,  of  a  little  place 
In  the  pine-tree  shade, — or  a  little  face — 
A  stump,  a  grove, 
A  kitchen  stove, 
Or  a  three-legged  stool,  if  you  can. 

It's  the  little  things  that  wind  their  way 

In  silence  to  the  heart, 
And  we  hardly  know,  and  hardly  care; 
We  hardly  look — just  find  them  there 

With  little  things — 

Real  little  things 
That  years  have  borne  apart. 


[27] 


UKULELE 

Her  dusky  head  upon  my  breast, 

Her  song,  with  snow-white  wings, 
Sails  on  night-veiled  seas  to  rest 

Born  from  love's  heart  strings. 
She  sings  the  purple  waves  to  sleep 

While  each  star  blinks  his  eye  ; 
The  crescent  moon  sinks  in  the  deep 

On  white  quilts  from  the  sky. 


[28] 


BECALMED 

Capella  rises  to  her  throne 

And  wears  a  wintry  crown ; 
While  the  scepter  of  Orion  to 

The  wilted  sails  points  down. 
The  clouds,  like  drifting  hulks  of  ice, 

Have  quenched  the  frozen  moon; 
The  sea — a  sheet  of  icy  steel — 

Has  ceased  her  fettered  tune. 
The  seagull,  like  a  ghost  of  dawn, 

Appears,  but  fades  away, 
As  the  scarlet  genii  of  the  west 

Has  swallowed  up  the  day. 
The  white  sails  seem  to  tremble,  for 

They  see  the  phantom  pass 
That  glides  away  with  all  the  world, 

Except  a  sea  of  glass. 
And  now  there's  only  silent  sleep 

On  quilts  of  mist  that  fall; 
But  while  Thy  mirror  sleeps,  O  God, 

It  dreams,  and  echoes  all. 


[29] 


THE  DREAM  SONG 

Peace  sailed  down  on  the  moon-path 

With  wings  for  the  soul  of  sleep 
That  bore  me  away  where  the  planet-bells 

Were  chiming  the  songs  of  the  deep. 
And  the  nymphs  of  the  wind  were  singing 

New  songs  to  the  ocean's  lyre, 
Till  my  soul,  like  a  sun-glazed  sabre, 

Cut  free  from  my  body's  fire. 
And  lo !  I  could  sing  with  the  phantoms 

That  danced  to  our  magic  lay 
Of  the  sea  when  the  stars  are  shining, 

And  the  moon-path  fires  play. 

2. 

But  I  woke !    The  sails,  against  a  cloud, 
Hissed  at  the  wind ;  the  bowsprit  ploughed 
Into  a  wave  whose  snowy  shroud 

Spread  over  as  it  died. 
Gaunt,  grizzled  clouds,  as  black  as  coal, 
Revealed  no  stars,  but  still  the  roll 
Throbbed  with  my  heart,  and  in  my  soul 

The  stars  dropped  out  again. 
Thoughts  of  my  dream,  like  echoes,  burst 
Into  my  heart — a  scorching  thirst ; 
I  strove  to  sing  the  song  that  first 

Broke  through  the  wall  of  dreams. 
Somewhere  the  words,  like  leeches,  hung 
Behind  my  lips — they  bit  my  tongue ! 
But  lo!  the  song  my  dream  had  sung 

Sank  back  into  my  soul. 


[30] 


THE  MARINER'S  ACCORDION 

Still  the  night,  and  all  the  world  around 

Was  wrapped  in  crystal  star-light,  while  the  sea 

Wore  garnet  chains  upon  her  pulsing  breast 
That  linked  my  soul  to  Heaven's  harmony. 

The  pipe  starred  faces  of  each  phantom  man 
Waxed  and  waned  as  billows  rose  and  fell ; 

The  smoke  curled  up  and  vanished  like  a  dream 
Or  wilting  fancies  winged  with  rapture's  spell. 

My  heart  soared  up  in  fire  till  it  shone 
On  memory  of  days  and  faces  gone ; 

My  soul,  white  heated,  burned  the  world  away! — 
The  Mariner's  accordion  played  on! 


31  J 


<t)arincrs,  stand  tylthouqh  ivill 

baffled  by  the  (Tester  Gale: 
Che  ship  is  lost! -so  life- but  still 
f)oiv  can  f)is  purpose  fail? 


ECHOES 

Saturn's  golden  ring  is  far  away, 

And  Mercury  that  flies  with  sun-bathed  wings; 
My  heart  is  tossed  amain  with  wind  and  spray, 

And  yet  how  faint  and  far  such  beauty  sings. 

I've  never  heard  the  breaker  sound  the  shoal 
Lest  other  waves  resound  as  from  afar ; 

I've  never  heard  the  song-bird  air  his  soul 
Unless  the  carol  echoes  from  a  star. 


[32] 


SAD  WAVES 

Sad  waves,  sad  waves,  rolling  by; 
Rolling  still  away,  while  I 

Give  heart  and  soul  to  thee. 
From  out  the  opal  sunset's  burning 
I  see  thy  goal,  but  no  returning 

Waves  across  the  sea. 

Farewell,  oh  waves  that  lift  my  bark 
And  bear  my  love  to  seas  of  dark 

When  twilight  veils  her  beams; 
If,  God,  all  love  and  life  must  part, 
Break,  sad  waves,  my  wasting  heart 

On  sunset's  shore  of  dreams. 


[33] 


"DESPAIR" 

(As  painted  by  Per  ham  Nahl) 

An  island  gray,  surrounded  by  a  sea 

Of  boundlessness — unfathomable,  and  cold  ; 

On  rocks  more  gray  and  gaunt  than  all  the  waves 

Kneels  the  outcast — toy  of  Destiny — 

With  drooping  head  and  wind-blown,  withered  locks 

Blinding  him  to  all  but  hopelessness. 

Hark  the  ghost-waves  moaning  at  the  cliff 

At  whose  brink  he,  kneeling,  hesitates! 

Cold  the  night — more  cold  than  all  the  rocks, 
And  colder  too  than  the  steel-blue,  icy  waves; 
Much  colder,  yea,  than  even  Death  itself ; 
One  precipice,  one  final  step  is  all! 
The  isle  transcended,  where  now  can  he  turn? 
Go  back  ? — Turn  back  ? — Nay,  this  can  never  be ! 
The  mighty  crag  behind  from  which  he  fell 
Precludes  it  all — God !  what  is  that  ? 

A  light! — A  golden  light  upon  the  waves! 
A  ship ! — A  ship  ? — See,  see  how  dim  it  shines  ; 
But  still  it  lends  its  glimmer  to  the  sea. 
Yet  how  the  breakers  beat  against  the  cliff! 
They  call!     They  call!  beckoning  him  to  come! 
The  light  has  left  the  sea !     It  climbs  the  sky ! 
And  lo,  'tis  nothing  but  the  morning  star: 
The  messenger  of  dawn  to  light  the  way 
To  Death's  immortal  darkness  in  the  sea. 


[34] 


SOULS  ON  THE  SEA  OF  TIME 

Like  crystals  of  the  ocean 

Comes  each  day. 
Some  spark  of  light — a  flash! — 

That  fades  away. 

They  come !    They  go ! — and  yet 

They're  never  gone. 
Each  lives  to  die,  and  calls 

The  next  one  on. 

One  by  one  the  twinkling 

Echoes  die, 
As  flowers,  birds  and  beasts — 

As  you  and  I. 

Each  light — a  life,  but,  watching 

From  afar, 
Behold  their  Maker  shining 

As  a  star. 


[35] 


DRIFT  WOOD 

Helpless  sticks,  decayed  and  rotten, 

Born  like  puppets  of  a  child ; 
Tossed,  and  shattered,  then  forgotten, 

Where  the  ranks  of  the  dead  are  filed ; 
Had  you  eyes  like  mine  to  see  with, 

Could  you  find  your  rocky  doom? 
With  lips  to  speak,  then  could  you  plead  with 

God  to  lay  aside  your  tomb? 

On  your  way,  poor  helpless  splinters, 

Ask  no  senses,  for  they  find 
That  summers  are  to  pilot  winters 

Through  the  labyrinth  of  mind. 
And  what  is  mind  ?    What  is  it  made  of  ? 

Can  we  trust  it  when  we  know 
We  fear  what  "Faith"  is  unafraid  of  ; 

Live,  lament  the  seed  we  sow? 

Oh  men    (poor  wave-tossed  hypocrites), 

We  too  are  doomed  to  drift  alee 
And  share  the  morgue  with  trashy  bits 

Of  useless  timber,  lost  at  sea. 


[36] 


GONE! 

The  breaker  sadly  moans 
Resounding  from  the  stones; 

The  echoes  fade  in  canyons  far  beyond  the  reach  of  ears: 
It's  gone — what  e'er  it  be ! 
Sad  day,  or  jollity! 

Gone  forever  to  the  hungry  genii  of  the  years. 
Reminiscence — vague  recall — 
Echoes  coldly  from  the  wall 

Where  seconds  are  the  mouldy  stones  turned  green  from 
senseless  tears. 

But  still  my  being  calls  for  dawn! — 
Yet  sullen  shadows  answer,  "Gone!" 


[37] 


WINE 

And  is  this  life  ? — 

A  hopeless  fight  to  know 
The  soul  and  source 

Of  dreams  that  come,  and  go ; 
A  restless  struggle 

For  the  ever-far ; 
A  helpless  worship 

Of  a  fancied  star? 

The  flowers  nod 

Before  they  fade  away; 
The  winds  sigh  "Yes" 

Before  the  death  of  day; 
The  billows  rise, 

But  crash  upon  the  stones. 
Life  offers  laurels 

To  our  wasting  bones. 


My  soul,  confess! 

This,  then,  to  death  be  thine 
As  joy  breeds  sorrow, 

Happiness  is  wine. 


[38] 


EVERY  MAN 

The  dark  clouds  see  the  silver  sun  above, 

I  see  it  not. 
The  saffron  maiden  of  the  west  is  love. 

I  find  her  not.  .  .  . 
The  clouds  blow  by!  the  sky  is  clear! 
I  see !  I  see ! — but  still  I  hear 
The  moaning  of  the  western  breeze 
Softly  sighing  thru  the  trees, 

"I  prayed,  I  longed, 

I  toiled,  I  fought, 

I  strove  to  grasp ! — 

But  found  it  not." 


[39] 


LINES  IN  LONELINESS 

Ne'er  returning — summers  spent — 

Glad  songs  of  only  yesterday, 
How  listlessly  your  blossoms  fade 

As  dying  echoes,  far  away ! 
What  blissful  spells  those  fairy  wings 

Of  cloudfleece  wafted  over  me! — 
Oh  God,  how  many  million  stars 

Have  sunk,  unnoticed,  in  the  sea! 

But  when  they're  gone,  how  blank  the  stare 

When  realized  darkness  drops  her  veil ! — 
I  curse  the  calm,  but  rarely  think 

To  thank  the  breeze  that  fills  my  sail. 
Oh  beauties  braided  in  each  dream, 

Let  me  embrace  thee  ere  we  part 
Lest  tears  that  seek  each  sinking  star 

Shall  drown  their  image  in  my  heart. 


[40] 


PILOT  OF  THE  NIGHT  WATCH 

In  silence  sleeps  the  crystal  sphere: 

The  noiseless  echo  of  my  star 
Where  moves  my  bark  with  prow  austere 

To  see,  O  God,  the  things  that  are. 

The  golden  dipper  of  the  skies 
Dips  down  into  a  sea  of  sorrow 

And  bears  the  tears  that  blind  my  eyes 
To  the  dim  bourne  of  tomorrow. 

And  lo,  I  see!  though  dark  the  night. 

I  hear!  thought  mute  each  sheet  and  spar. 
I  grasp  the  helm.     I  see  the  light ! 

That  shines  upon  the  things  that  are. 


[41] 


THE  BLIND  BEGGAR 

"That  I  have  never  seen  that  called  the  light ; 

That  I  can  only  feel  the  chill  of  night 

But  sense  no  darkness ;  wherefore  pity  me  ? 

Whence  comes  this  fetish — this  verb  men  use :  'to  see'  ?" 

Two  kindly  eyes  looked  down  with  pitying  stare  ; 

Two  eyes  from  one — a  stranger — by  him  there. 

Quoth  he,  "What  God  forbids  no  code  can  spell — 

I  only  pity  thee,  but  cannot  tell. 

What  joy  to  see  the  drunken  flakes  of  snow 

Fall  from  darkness  to  the  light  below. 

Through  semilucent  mist  and  sleeky  gleam 

Dim  shadows  weave  their  ways  as  in  a  dream  ; 

Kaleidoscopic  lights  along  the  street 

Like  pulsing  phantom  passions ;  glossy  sleet 

In  multicolored  torrents  bear  the  glow 

With  blush  of  coral  to  the  trampled  snow. 

All  this  my  eyes  have  given  me  to  see, 

But  thou  art  blind,  wherefore  I  pity  thee, — 

Wert  thou  not  blind  thou  also  couldst  behold." 

The  beggar  but  replied,  "The  night  is  cold." 

"Then  come  with  me,  and — may  the  good  be  blessed — 

Faith,  I  shall  give  thee  clothing,  food  and  rest." 

On  shuffled  groups  of  women  in  a  throng 

Of  cackling  men  that,  laughing,  tracked  along; 

Full  blown  maw — rapacious,  wanton,  lewd, — 

On  oozed  the  maudlin  mass,  God's  bloated  brood. 

The  stranger  saw  and  shuddered — ah,  full  well 

He  knew  his  feet  had  made  their  tracks  in  hell, 

But  now  his  chance  had  come  before  too  late  ; 

A  kindly  deed  his  sins  to  expiate! 

Down  fell  the  snow — on  trooped  the  mawkish  men, 

The  blinded  beggar  rose — and  then — and  then — 

"Behold! — I  see  the  Light! — the  Light!"  he  cried; 

There,  in  the  stranger's  arms,  the  beggar  died. 

The  street  was  hushed — the  great  crowd  stood  at  bay — 

Two  policemen  came  and  hurried  him  away. 

(Over) 


[42] 


Home  went  the  stranger.    Meditations  deep 

Grew  vague  and  tangled  in  a  web  of  sleep, 

But  lo !  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  floor 

Brought  him  from  his  slumbers  to  the  door. 

There  stood  the  beggar — surd  felicity 

Played  upon  his  lips.    Lo,  he  could  see ! 

"Whence  comest  thou?"  amazed  the  stranger  said. 

"From  far  beyond  the  grave — from  realms  of  dead." 

"Pray  where  is  this?    Speak,  brother,  speak  again! 

Thou  hast  been  there  ?    Describe  it  to  me  then !" 

The  phantom  eyes  grew  bright.    "Friend,  search  and  find, 

But  now  I  pity  thee,  for  thou  art  blind. 

What  God  forbids  no  mortal  code  can  spell  ; 

I  only  pity  thee,  but  cannot  tell." 


[43] 


Oothmq  ma^  be  ivhat  it  seems. 

!  ChanK  God  above. 
Ghcrc  never  tvas  a  love  of  dreams 

i^et  there  arc  dreams  of  love. 


TANKA  TO  

I  tossed  a  stone,  my  love, 
Into  the  mirror  sea. 

Each  soft  silver  ripple  shone 
My  soul's  spent  threnody 
Seeking,  my  love,  for  thec. 


[44] 


YOU 

Your  hands  have  painted  the  sunset  screen; 

The  ocean  finds  its  blue 
From  skies  whose  star-bright  eyes  reflect 

The  eyes  they  gave  to  you. 

Golden  ripples  hear  your  song 

As  day  gives  his  heart  to  the  sea  ; 
When  the  sea  gives  her  heart  to  the  day,  the  dawn 

Shall  follow  your  soul  to  me. 

The  crescent  moon  descends  to  hear 

Your  echoed  siren-call — 
Nay,  'tis  not  all  I  find  in  you, 

But  you  I  find  in  all. 


[45] 


WOODLAND  STARS 

Strawberry  blossoms,  and  columbine — 

Stars  of  a  lonely  wood — 
Blossom  as  hope  for  the  fallen  pine 
That  reached  for  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars, 

When  King  of  his  forest  he  stood. 

Sweet  maiden  of  love  in  life's  lonely  wood, 

The  shadow  of  God  is  thine. 
Shine  on  as  bright  hope  for  a  Love  that  stood 
As  the  pine  of  the  forest  that  fell,  but  found 

The  echo  of  stars  divine. 


[46] 


A  PROMISE 

I  offered  thee  a  heart,  my  love, 

But  thou  didst  choose  a  stone: 
A  promise,  and  its  heart  was  cold — 

As  cold  as  was  thine  own. 
But  it  shall  hold  though  lightning  sabers 

Cleave  the  skies  apart  ; 
But  when  the  wild  wind's  passions  wake ; 
When  white-crest  billows  rise  and  shake, 
Behold !  they  fall !  they  beat ! — and  break  !- 

Remember,  then,  my  heart. 


147 


SUN-FLOWER 

I  slept  thru  golden  dreams  on  quilts  of  green 

That  spread  in  ample  fold 

A  vision  green  and  gold, 
And  crowned  a  golden  plant  my  flower  queen. 

I  woke.     Her  eyes  revealed  no  faded  spray. 

But  lo,  the  mystic  flower 

Had  closed  within  the  hour 
And  closing  bore  my  happy  dream  away. 

A  day — no  more — God !  how  I  feared  to  rise ! — 

To  wake — to  find  the  light 

Had  turned  my  day  to  night ! 
Oh  sun-god,  thou  hadst  closed  within  her  eyes! 


L48 


THE  LOST  SONG 

The  words  were  graven  on  my  heart- 

The  words  I  wrote  for  you. 
They  wove  the  verses  of  a  song 

And  sang  the  music  too. 
The  letters — written  one  by  one 

With  pain  that  numbed  my  heart ; 
Each  verse  was  guided  on  by  love 

And  all  it  could  impart. 
The  music,  sweet  as  Hope's  lost  star, 

Pulsed  in  my  heart  to  free 
Perfection  of  some  distant  dream 

Of  your  soul's  harmony. 
Yet  I  could  never  speak  the  words 

My  broken  heart  could  say, 
For  you  have  found  its  hiding  place 

And  stolen  it  away. 


49 


FORGET-ME-NOT 

As  many  miles  as  minutes  worn 

By  fallen  sands  of  years 
Precludes  a  shady  plot  of  turf 

From  this — a  sea  of  tears. 
As  many  tears  as  longing  thoughts ; 

And  many  thoughts — forgot, 
Save  one  small  flower  dreams  recall 

That  said  "Forget-me-not." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  the  sun, 

But  ere  I  passed  her  by, 
I  saw  her  petals,  blue  as  all 

The  flowers  of  the  sky. 
Though  hours  bear  me  leagues  away, 

Dreams  light  the  woodland  plot, 
And  one  small  star,  still  shining  there, 

Calls  back,  "Forget-me-not." 


[50] 


THE  PATHFINDER 

"I  go  no  farther."    Thus  spake  Reason  coldly. 
Vain  argument  my  sober  guide  refuted — 
"No  farther!"    With  this  repetition  boldly 
He  departed,  leaving,  all  uprooted, 
Blossomed  hope  there  in  my  grasp  to  fade — 
The  flower  I  had  nursed — the  flower  God  had  made. 

I — alone.    The  palsied  moon,  half  hidden, 
Trembled  faintly  on  the  ivied  thicket; 
Troubled  silence  gnawed  the  dull  unbidden 
Rattle  of  the  locust  and  the  cricket. 
A  mazed  delirium,  a  world  awry — 
A  foundered  dream,  a  dying  hope,  a  curse,  and  I. 

Chaotic  nothingness — cold — depressing, 
Tangled  roots  and  cactus  underbrushes. 
Desperate  wonderment  and  mottled  guessing 
Overwhelmed  me  like  the  flood  that  rushes 
Past  its  bounds  to  some  well-ordered  town, 
To  flood  the  busy  streets  and  wash  the  houses  down. 

On  I  stumbled — frenzied — weary — panting, 
Till  lo,  there  came  a  wine  to  quench  my  thirsting  ; 
There  came  a  distant  voice — soft — enchanting — 
Artesian  fountains  on  a  desert  bursting — 
"Follow  me,"  it  said.    "From  realms  above 
I  come.     I  am  the  pathfinder  of  Hope — 

/  am  Love" 


[51] 


dlho  boasts  ot  true  sincerity 

Can   have  no  alibi; 
Prepared  to  live,  he  cannot  be 

Still   unprepared  to  die. 


MOTHERS 

Thy  heart — a  spring,  thy  love — a  flowing  river, 
Singing  as  it  goes  of  no  returning. 

Thou  hast  to  give,  and  thou  shalt  know  thy  giving 
In  the  sunset  where  all  Love  is  burning. 


52| 


REDEMPTION 

He  sought  it  in  the  flowers  when  a  child ; 

He  sought  through  countless  pages  as  he  grew ; 

He  said  he  found  it  when  a  maiden  smiled, 

But  it  was  not  there — 

Nor  anywhere, 
He  knew. 

And  then  he  gave  it  up  and  went  about 
Chasing  Jack-o'-lanterns  here  and  there. 
He  lost  himself  in  labyrinths  without 

A  thought  of  debt, 

A  slight  regret, 
Or  prayer. 

But  lo,  there  came  a  far  off  thunder  sound! 
The  sea  grew  red  and  bloody  to  the  brim, 
Despair,  destruction,  death  was  all  he  found, 

But  it  had  brought 

That  which  he  sought 
To  him. 


[53] 


TO  WALT  WHITMAN 

You  break  from  the  wake  of  a  roaring  dream, 

And  pound  on  a  far-flung  shoal; 
Like  the  hail  in  a  gale  or  a  lightning  beam, 

You  strike  at  the  worth  of  soul. 
You  fly  from  the  sky  as  a  meteor  stone, 

To  plunge  thru  the  sandy  crust  ; 
You  pound  and  pound  on  blood  and  bone, 

Till  you  turn  to  a  sledge  and  rust. 
But  the  clamoring,  hammering,  drum-tap  sound 

That  rolls  from  your  pile-drive  pen, 
Roars  from  the  shores  of  the  sea  to  resound 

In  the  hearts  of  a  million  men. 
I  know  your  blow  when  the  anvil  rings, 

I  see  your  heart-forged  coals, 
While  gold  sparks  fly  from  earth  to  sky 

And  burn  thru  our  metal  souls. 
With  bonds  of  steel  you  bind  us  all 

To  a  soil  whose  bend  is  one, 
And  we  all  must  kneel  when  the  trumpets  call, 

Even  as  you  have  done. 


[54] 


CARRY  ON! 

Touch  it  not ! — 'tis  the  flower  of  beauty ! — 
In  thy  grasp  shall  it  wither  away, 

Like  stars  of  the  night 

In  the  realm  of  our  sight 

Must  vanish  with  light 
Of  the  day. 

Drink  it  not! — 'tis  the  nectar  of  gladness! 
At  thy  lips  shall  it  change  unto  gall, 

Like  love  unto  lust, 

Like  steel  unto  rust, 

Like  rain  to  the  dust 
Shall  it  fall. 

Take  it  up! — 'tis  the  sabre  of  living! — 

Fight!  ere  its  lustre  is  gone, 
For  man  to  the  core 
Of  his  conscience  is  war! — 
As  thy  fathers  before, 
Carry  on ! 


[55] 


A  SOLDIER'S  WILL  TO  ONE  UNBORN 

Little  pilgrim  of  a  World's  debut, 

Soul  elect,  heir  to  a  brighter  age, 
This  generation  sows  a  seed  for  you 

We  water  with  our  blood !    Your  heritage 
We  now  prepare:  a  ponderous  world  estate! 

We  draw  the  will,  and  seal  it  with  our  plight ! 
For  you,  nor  yours,  we  shall  not  arbitrate 

Till  peace  is  born  as  day  is  born  from  night; 
As  you  shall  spring  from  love,  the  world  shall  spring 

From  all  that  love  creates  in  life  and  power. 
This  we  leave,  may  God  your  only  King, 

Protect  the  seed  that  you  may  pick  the  flower. 


[56] 


DRY  DOCKED 

She  has  splashed  the  hearts  of  a  happy  crew 

In  the  salt  of  a  spicy  main, 
And  tumbled  them  out  to  a  great  unknown 

And  carried  them  home  again. 
Hers — the  freedom  of  all  the  seas; 

Their  joy  was  to  feel  her  roll 
And  plunge  and  leap  from  the  foaming  waves 

Like  a  song  as  it  springs  from  the  soul. 

But  she  was  the  Ship  of  Peace,  and  now 

Her  crew  are  the  men  of  war, 
Scattered  all  over  the  earth,  and  great 

Is  the  cause  they  are  fighting  for. 
For  now  she  lies  helpless:  shackled  and  chained 

To  the  dock,  till  her  sailor  men 
Will  have  swept  the  world  of  its  monsters. — God! 

When  will  she  sail  again  ? 


[57] 


THE  LEGACY  OF  DEATH 

Ye,  that  put  aside  frivolity 
For  this  grim  struggle  with  a  frenzied  foe; 
Ye,  led  by  the  shades  of  chivalry, 
Who  more  for  love  than  life,  would  strike  the  blow 
Of  death ;  march  on !  and,  with  thy  radiant  spirits, 
Lead  the  way  and  every  soul  inspire 
With  sinewed  love  to  battle  down  the  hate 
And  carry  on  through  shrapnel  storm  and  fire 
The  torch  our  Master  gave.     Then  from  the  graves 
Of  the  fallen,  lo!  the  peace  that  reigns  the  while 
Above  each  tired  heap  that  gave  a  life — 
Nay,  more! 
A  love— 

A  dying  smile. 


[58] 


Lo !  the  peace  that  reigns  the  while 
Above  each  tired  heap  that  gave  a  life, — 
Nay,  more ! 
A  love — 

A  dying  smile. 


Certain  of  these  -verses  have  already 
appeared  in  the  Los  Angeles  Graphic, 
Occident,  Air  Currents,  and  other  local 
Publications,  and  also  in  one  of  Henry  T. 
Schnittkind's  Anthology  of  College  Verse. 


^L  y>. 


15m- 7  2, '24 


12262 


415529 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFC  'BRARY 


